


What’s Cookin’, Good Lookin’?

by DelilahMcMuffin



Series: Randoms - A Series of Random Prompts [21]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Baking, Kitchen Sex, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:01:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24725716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DelilahMcMuffin/pseuds/DelilahMcMuffin
Summary: “In here!” David’s voice called out from the direction of the kitchen.Patrick frowned and braced himself. The thought of David alone in the kitchen all day was both terrifying and adorable. He frequently spent his days off cooking things for Patrick, deep diving on Pinterest for recipes he thought would make Patrick’s mouth water. And Patrick appreciated the thought, he really did. It was just that sometimes, after a day spent in the kitchen, all that David had to show for his efforts was the thought. And some kind of lumpy, burnt thing that was supposedly a pot roast or maybe banana bread.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Series: Randoms - A Series of Random Prompts [21]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1556491
Comments: 16
Kudos: 188
Collections: The Rosebudd Ficlets





	What’s Cookin’, Good Lookin’?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ships_to_sail](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ships_to_sail/gifts).



> Thanks to ships_to_sail for the prompt: Patrick comes home one day to find David baking cupcakes and decides he wants to dirty up the kitchen a little more before they get to cleaning
> 
> I kind of stuck to the prompt? Somehow, I don’t think ships_to_sail will mind.
> 
> Also, the title is awful. But I’m not even sorry. My dad used to say that to my Mom whenever she baked something for him, and I thought it was sweet and corny.

“Hi honey! I’m home!”

Patrick dropped his messenger bag on the bench beside the front door, kicking his shoes off in the direction of the shoe rack. He would come back to straighten them up later, but he’d been at the store alone all day and he just wanted to see his husband.

“In here!” David’s voice called out from the direction of the kitchen. Patrick frowned and braced himself. The thought of David alone in the kitchen all day was both terrifying and adorable. He frequently spent his days off cooking things for Patrick, deep diving on Pinterest for recipes he thought would make Patrick’s mouth water. And Patrick appreciated the thought, he really did. It was just that sometimes, after a day spent in the kitchen, all that David had to show for his efforts  _ was _ the thought. And some kind of lumpy, burnt thing that was supposedly a pot roast or maybe banana bread. 

They usually ended up ordering out on those days, with Patrick soothing David’s fragile ego and David equal parts pouting and apologetic.

So with a deep breath— _ nothing smelled burnt, so that was good— _ Patrick made his way into the kitchen. 

David was crouched in front of the oven, an apron tied around his waist and his eyes fixed anxiously on whatever was inside. The kitchen was...well it was a bit of a disaster. But less so than the time David had attempted to make buttermilk biscuits in the stand mixer. That had resulted in an explosion of flour so cataclysmic that three months later, Patrick was still finding chunks of fossilized flour and butter in unexpected places. David had resorted to glaring at the stand mixer while vowing never to use it again until it “got its shit together”.

The mess today was mostly contained to the mixing bowl still showing traces of a chocolate batter of some kind, and a few eggs that had clearly not made it into the bowl. All in all, not bad. It did look as though David had used every utensil they owned—other than the mixer, of course—and there were several pans which had clearly been greased but not used.

“What’s cookin’, good lookin’?” Patrick teased, leaning on the doorway, arms crossed as he watched David fret over whatever concoction was on it’s way to being burnt today. 

David smiled at him, rolling his eyes, but Patrick could see he was pleased. “Um...I think they’re cupcakes.”

Patrick’s brow furrowed. “You think?”

David shrugged. “Well, they were going to be a cake, but um, then I decided that maybe cupcakes would be easier? Because they’re smaller and they wouldn’t be all wobbly inside like that last cake I made you?”

Ah yes. The infamous coconut cake David had attempted, which had been lovingly blackened on the outside and raw on the inside because apparently recommended cooking temperatures were a suggestion, not a rule.

“Well that explains all the cake pans,” Patrick said. He was aiming for teasing, but the look of contrition on David’s face made his heart ache.

“Sorry,” David said, turning his attention back to his cupcakes. “I’ll clean them up after…” He trailed off, gesturing to the oven. “I just, I think these might actually turn out, so I just need to...but I’ll...I’ll clean everything up.”

Inwardly berating himself, Patrick crossed the kitchen and crouched down beside David. “Sweetheart, you know I don’t mind.”

David gnawed on his lip, nodding absently. “I know. I just hoped these would be done and I’d have everything put away for once when you got home.” 

“David…”

“No, I know. It’s ridiculous, me trying to do this for you. I know. I...I’m not good at it, and I should just...I should just stop.” Pushing himself to his feet, David leaned back against the counter and crossed his arms protectively over his chest. And, well, that wasn’t what Patrick wanted at all.

“David,” Patrick said softly, standing and wrapping his arms gently around his husband’s waist. He could feel the tension rippling under David’s skin. “Honey, I love that you do this for me.” He pressed a kiss to David’s jaw, felt the muscles unclench ever so slightly. “I love that it makes you happy.” He moved to nuzzle his nose into the dip just below David’s ear. “And since when haven’t I enjoyed seeing you just a little bit messy?”

He felt David’s arms unwind from where they had been crossed between them, winding instead around Patrick’s neck. “Hmm...you’ll note that I’m not messy at all,” David murmured, tilting his head to give Patrick better access to his neck. 

“No, you’re perfect. As always,” Patrick noted appreciatively. “Not a spec of flour on you.” He bent his head to skim his lips along David’s collar bone. “How long until those cupcakes are done?”

“Um, five minutes?”

“Yeah? I can work with that,” Patrick said. He gave David’s neck one final nip before he dropped to his knees, ducking his head under David’s apron, fingers fumbling with David’s fly.

David moaned and petted at Patrick’s shoulders as Patrick took his half hard cock into his mouth. He wanted to take his time, show David how much he loved and appreciated him. But there was a time limit, and Patrick was bound and determined to make David come before the timer went off.

His hands gripped David’s hips, his lips tight and stretched around David’s thick cock. He bobbed his head, taking David deeper and deeper, laving him with his tongue, just the way he knew drove David wild. He moved one hand to cup David’s balls, squeezing them gently as he buried his nose against David’s soft belly, swallowing around him.

“Oh, fuck! Patrick, honey...like that. Just like that.” David’s voice was high and breathy, and Patrick loved it, loved hearing the desperation in his husband’s voice. He knew he only had a minute or two left, and David was so, so close. He pulled back, keeping just the tip in his mouth and letting his tongue roll around, up and down his slit. He pressed a dry finger to David’s perenium, edging it back to his hole, circling slowly, teasingly. He felt David’s hole flutter at his touch and he dribbled pre-come onto Patrick’s greedy tongue. 

“How much longer?” Patrick mumbled around David’s straining, leaking cock head. 

“Oh, God. A minute. A minute!” David exclaimed, hands frantically gripping at the shoulders of Patrick’s blue button down. “Fuck, honey. Make me come. Please? Please!”

And Patrick did just that, sucking david down to the root and swallowing around him as he pressed his finger just inside the ring of David’s hole. And then David was coming, shouting Patrick’s name and gripping his shoulders and coming and trembling and coming. Patrick swallowed down every last drop, then let David’s softening cock fall from his mouth. 

Panting hard, he pressed his forehead against David’s hip. “God. I fucking love your cock, David,” he said, his voice sounding raw and stretched. 

“I know you do, honey,” David said, lovingly stroking the back of Patrick’s neck. “That was so good. Thank you.”

Any response Patrick might have made was cut off by the blaring of the timer. David carefully maneuvered himself from Patrick’s grasp, tucking himself in (because an exposed penis around a hot oven is just asking for trouble, Patrick) and donning his oven mits. Patrick watched him pull the tray from the oven and set it on the counter. The kitchen was suddenly filled with the delicious scent of warm chocolate, and Patrick’s stomach rumbled. David pulled a skewer from the drawer and poked it into one of the cupcakes, pulling it out cleanly and peering anxiously at it.

“Um, think...I think they’re done,” he whispered, as if he couldn’t believe it. 

“Yeah?” Patrick smiled up at him. They really did smell delicious. “When can I have one?”

“Well they have to cool, and then I have to make the frosting...” He eyed the stand mixer suspiciously. “And I have to clean up all this—“ David gestured at the mess on the counter.

“Or,” Patrick began, walking his fingers up David’s leg, tugging at his belt loop, “You could come down here and make a mess with me on the floor.”

David’s eyes widened, his eyebrow quirked. He dropped the skewer on the counter and reached around behind his back to undo his apron. He knelt, straddling Patrick’s lap and grinding down against Patrick’s very interested erection. 

“Do you want me to set a timer?” 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I just realized this is #21 in my series of prompt fics. I’ve enjoyed writing them, and I hope you’ve all enjoyed reading them!!
> 
> As usual, no beta, written in a rush, loads of mistakes...you know the drill.
> 
> Please leave a comment or a kudos if you’re so inclined. And I hope you are, because I love them! Then come say hi on Tumblr @delilah-mcmuffin
> 
> Until next time,
> 
> D McM

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] What’s Cookin’, Good Lookin’?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25345423) by [DelilahMcMuffin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DelilahMcMuffin/pseuds/DelilahMcMuffin)




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